


Birthday Girl

by space0bongo



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 09:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10356855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/space0bongo/pseuds/space0bongo
Summary: Bellamy plans Clarke's birthday party.





	

**Author's Note:**

> There is no purpose behind this fic really. Just a bit of fluff. I might expand this universe as a series later.

Clarke's the go to girl for parties. If any of her friends, or her friends' friends, want a party they'll call her and she will work through the night to ensure it's the best damn party they've ever had. But nobody ever returns the favour because Clarke's a Thanksgiving baby and they're all too busy with their own families to do more than message 'happy birthday' on her Facebook wall.

It shouldn't annoy Bellamy as much as it does. After all it's not like they're friends, she's not even his sister's friend really, but he feels unreasonably angry everytime he gets invited to one of Octavia or Lincoln's friends' places and it's Clarke running around in the background getting shit done while the host sits back on their asses and lets her.

So that's why this year Bellamy cancels Thanksgiving at his place. That's why he sends all of Clarke's friends vaguely threatening voice messages about how they'd better turn up to her birthday party at his place 'or else'. That's why he bakes her a fucking a cake. He's doing all of this because he's fed up of watching Clarke get used.

It has nothing to do about how she gets really quiet approaching her birthday. It has nothing to do with how her eyes tear up when Bellamy remembers to get her a gift before getting caught up in his own Thanksgiving prep, like she isn't used to it. It definitely has nothing to do how much he fucking loves her. That shit is irrelevant here.

He's doing this for Clarke not for himself.

"You're only doing this because you wanna get in her pants," Octavia tells him sagely as she licks the remnants of cake batter off the wooden spoon. Bellamy rolls his eyes.

"I'm doing it because it's the right thing to do. Lincoln got those fairy lights we talked about?"

He's going to decorate the roof garden with them. Put down a few pieces of garden furniture. Lay out drinks and food and music. It's going to be the best damned birthday Clarke has ever had even if it kills him, which it seems like it just might. Bellamy is pushing thirty. His heart doesn't need this stress.

"Yeah." Octavia lets out a put upon sigh. "He's still in charge of bringing Clarke over right?"

"Yeah. Tell him to make sure she dresses up." He isn't working his ass off here for her to rock up to the party in an old t-shirt and jeans. The least she can do is wear a tight dress for him. Herself he hastily corrects his thoughts. The least she can do is wear a tight dress for herself.

"Oh you won't need to worry about that," When Bellamy half-turns to raise an eyebrow: "He told her we're all going on a double-date and that we're all meeting here first because you want to pre-game like a little bitch." She sniggers when his mouth falls open in shock. "If there's one thing that'll definitely motivate Clarke to dress up, it's a date with you."

"We're not like that."

"Is that why you're making her a three tier princess cake, Bell, because you don't want to have her babies?"

"Fuck you." Then a beat later: "You think she'll like it?"

"She'd probably like it better if you boned her afterwards."

"You're an asshole."

"You think this is bad," Octavia steals a spoonful of icing. "Just wait 'til you guys start dating. I'm going to give you payback for everything you did to Lincoln when we first started dating. What goes around comes around, Bell."

The party is awesome because when Bellamy decides on something he fucking commits to it. The rooftop garden at his place has never looked better. There's food, drinks on a makeshift bar with a real bartender, music, and Clarke's wearing a tiny orange dress that fits like a second skin and makes her legs go on for days. Bellamy couldn't be happier about how it turned out.

Clarke on the other hand hasn't so much as smiled since she got there. Bellamy has no idea why, he's been too busy to say more than a quick 'hi' after everyone surprised her as she came in. But things are finally good now, he's got Miller on the drinks and Harper on the food, and someone called Jasper is DJ'ing. So he has time to grab a couple beers and join Clarke at the table where she's been sitting alone for the past half hour.

"Why the long face?" Bellamy hands her the beer which she accepts with a small smile. She watches as he pulls out the chair closest to hers and slumps into it. It's been a long day. He doesn't know how Clarke does this all the damned time.

"Octavia said this was your idea." She plays with the label on her bottle, her eyes fixed on his as he drinks his own beer.

"Yeah well someone had to do it."

"Nobody had to do anything but thanks I guess."

Bellamy freezes with his bottle to his lips.

"You guess?"

Clarke shrugs and it does gorgeous things for her cleavage, things he wants to appreciate, but he's suddenly furious. "Do you know how fucking hard I worked to plan this? I arranged the food and drinks. I threatened and bribed all these shits to cancel their Thanksgiving plans." His voice trembles with rage. "I baked you a fucking cake!"

"I didn't ask you to," She aggressively peels the label off her bottle, a clearly distressed expression on her face. "I didn't ask for a cake, or a party. I don't need your pity."

Bellamy stares at her a second. His anger turns first into confusion and then realisation. He smiles as he reaches forward to touch her knee.

"You don't like celebrating your birthday."

"I hate parties," Clarke admits miserably. "That's why I volunteer to plan them, so I don't have to be a guest. The only reason why I even came here was because I thought," she licks her lips and his eyes follow every movement. "I thought we were going on a date. It's embarrassing to even think about how I fell for that. Who goes on a date on Thanksgiving?"

Bellamy can't help himself, he laughs. Then when she turns pink in embarrassment he leans forward to kiss her. It's quick and hot and dirty and Clarke's face is as red as a tomato by the time he pulls away just enough to look her in the eye.

"We could still go on a date," Bellamy tells her quietly as his hand slides up just enough to play with the hem of her dress. "My apartment's only downstairs." He kisses along the column of her throat. "I have food. I have Netflix. I have a really comfortable bed."

"That doesn't count as a date," but considering the way Clarke's pushing his hand up under her dress, Bellamy doesn't think she minds.

"Would it count if I took you out for breakfast tomorrow?" He presses butterfly kisses along her cleavage. "Would it count if I told you I'm crazy in love with you?"

The grin Clarke gives him is answer enough and they quickly sneak back to Bellamy's place with their hands intertwined.

-:-


End file.
